Parashat Shemot tells of the first time Hashem spoke to Moshe Rabbenu. He appeared to Moshe in the סנה , the burning bush, appointing him Beneh Yisrael ’s prophet and leader, who would bring them out of Egypt. The Torah writes that Moshe saw the burning bush and received this prophecy when he was working as a shepherd for his father-in-law, Yitro, and, specifically, when he brought the sheep out into the desert: וינהג את הצאן אחר המדבר (3:1). The Midrash Tanhuma comments that this pasuk has a deep symbolic meaning. The Torah is telling us that Moshe was drawn to the מדבר , to the desert, because he foresaw great things happening in the desert. It was in the desert that Beneh Yisrael received the Torah, and were given mitzvot to observe. It was in the desert that Beneh Yisrael constructed the Mishkan , where the Shechinah (divine presence) rested. It was in the desert that Beneh Yisrael received miraculous sustenance, with manna falling from the heavens each morning, and a well of water that traveled with them. Moshe was drawn to the desert because he was drawn to greatness, and he sensed that greatness would be attained specifically there in the desert. The Malbim, one of the famous later commentators, develops this symbolism further. He explains that a desert, a region that is desolate and uninhabitable, represents the absence of physicality. It is a place where one’s physical needs can barely be provided, where one can, at best, survive in the most minimal way. The מדבר thus symbolizes complete spirituality, divesting oneself of all physical activities. The Malbim explains that Moshe sought kedushah . He wanted to live a life of pristine holiness, without any physical qualities whatsoever. This is the meaning of וינהג את הצאן אחר המדבר . He wanted to go out into the desert, to leave the normal, physical world, and live an entirely spiritual existence. When Moshe first saw the burning bush, and started going towards it, Hashem commanded, אל תקרב הלום – “Do not come close” (3:5). The Malbim explains that Hashem was telling him that he cannot divest himself completely of all physicality. After all, all human beings – even Moshe Rabbenu – have a body, and so we all have physical needs to tend to. We are urged to go out into the מדבר , to leave our physical existence, while recognizing that we are not able to remove our physicality altogether. The Malbim here teaches us that in order to live lives of kedushah , we need to go into the “desert,” meaning, we need to eliminate certain things from our lives. In contemporary terms, this means we need to “leave” our society’s culture. Of course, living here in the Diaspora, among non-Jews, in a non-Jewish environment, we cannot isolate ourselves completely. Nevertheless, it is imperative that we create some sort of “desert” in our homes, that we carefully discern what we allow inside. To some extent, we need to withdraw from society and create for ourselves a “desert,” a place that is free of outside influences. Imagine if we traveled to a poverty-stricken society in a Third World country, where people live without electricity, without running water, and without the sanitary conditions that we are all accustomed to. We see them living on dirt floors, with insects and flies in their bowls and plates, and sleeping on run-down beds. Now imagine we invite the people to come live in our society, with all the comforts and with the standards of hygiene and cleanliness that we enjoy. We describe to them how we live, and we ask if they would want to live with us, rather than living in the dirt and with the insects and flies. We would find it very strange if they refuse, if they would say, “No thank you, this is the way we live, and we’re happy with it.” Sadly, however, this is how many people feel when it comes to spiritual “dirt.” We expose ourselves and our children to material that none of us should be exposed to, figuring that this is just the way it is, this is how we live in our society. But the truth is that we do not have to live this way. We do not – and should not – have to live with filth. Of course, I’m not saying that we should actually go into a “desert,” that we should abandon all of modern life. We do, however, need to set limits, and use discretion. If we are going to live meaningful religious lives, we are going to have to withdraw from much of what the surrounding society consumes and indulges in. We cannot allow into our homes and into our lives everything that the surrounding society deems acceptable. Moshe Rabbenu, the greatest prophet who ever lived, showed us that we are chosen to pursue greatness, and in order to attain greatness, we need to go out into the “desert,” setting limits on what we consume and what we bring into our world.